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THE 

DELAWARE BRIDE 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

RICHARD GRIFFIN 



PUBLISHED BY 
THE AUTHOR 






Copyright, 1913 

BY 

RICHARD GRIFFIN 



JAN 15 1914 



■^ .^ 






THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

The whipping-post, the whipping-post, 
I love you: you're a dear! 
The whipping-post folks often roast. 
How whimsical, how queer! 

Men's taste is such. 

They change so much. 
Shut up, don't howl, don't cry. 
Saw wood, you'll soon know why. 
Don't get upset; now gently, gently. 
Give me your ear — both ears intently. 

The day of the wl;iipping broke clear and bright, 
The sun looked down on a wond'rous sight. 
Look! what is that crowd so patiently waiting? 
What means all this chatter, what are they debating? 
Why, haven't you heard, it's advertised wide — 
They are waiting to cheer the Delaware Bride. 

The Delaware Bride is a post made of deal. 
Dumb witness of many a sinner's sharp squeal. 
All hail to the lash, give us gore, let it pour! 
All hail to the time-honored Delaware law! 

Pretty Httle Mabel was a teacher in the school; 
Pretty little Mabel thought she's break the golden rule. 
First she wasted stationery, then she broke the chalk. 
To potent Superintendents was addicted to back talk. 
One foxy Superintendent, a man of great resources. 
Did not at all believe in the mild and middle courses. 

He brought her a stripe, 

Of the Delaware tyipe, 

3 



4 THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

He made his complaint in the proper direction; 
The Judge and the jury decided correction. 
On poor little Mabel the sentence now crashes — 
Her soft naked back must receive forty lashes. 

Her punishment will be appHed 
Outside the jail, 'twill hurt her pride. 

Of course it will; 

A bitter pill. 
Her legal whipping is advertised well; 
Her press agents work both by book and bell; 
The preparations near the jail 
Are handled on tremendous scale. 

This tall massive platform of pine, long and wide. 
Is reached by a flight of ten steps on one side. 
On top of this platform, so stately and high, 
The whipping-post gracefully pierces the sky; 
The whipping-post, famous in prose and in song; 
The post of stern justice, inspiring, strong; 
The post of correction, the joy and the pride 
Of county and State, fair Delaware's Bride. 

Up high on a staff waves the flag of the free, 
Below stands the crowd, the whipping to see, 
All laughing, joking, poking fun. 
By jovel it almost yanks the bun! 
It seems just like a county fair. 
This motley crowd, all free from care. 
Waiting to see one Kttle girl whipped — 
W^aiting to look at her shape when stripped. 

Ah! lo! a trumpet blow, a sudden blast. 
Ho ho! The whipping will begin at last; 
The prison gates open, the show commences. 
What! have the people lost their senses? 



THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

Don't shove, don't move, don't rush! 
Hats off! don't speak! Hush, hush! 

The Sheriff and prisoner both appear; 
One bare-foot prisoner, Mabel dear. 
A slip of a girl with eyes of blue. 
Of violet hue — so honest, true; 
As clear and bright as the stars above, 
A sweet little girlie girl, made to love. 

She has to walk bare-foot, the law says she must; 
Both stockings and shoes are a cause of distrust. 
It's easy to give the Sheriff a kick 
Through spite; it is really a very old trick. 
And so to make everything safe and discreet. 
Our Mabel now walks on two pretty bare feet. 
Two cute little lily white, tender bare feet. 
Poor dearie, poor darling, so innocent, sweet. 

The sheriff and she 

As chic as can be, 
They walk up the stairs Kke a sister and brother, 
Confidingly holding the hand of each other. 

It is a touching sight to see 

This couple free from enmity; 

The Sheriff, dignified and calm, 

And Mabel, dear, all youth and charm. 
Dressed in white flannel so trim and so neat 
From the top of her head to her pretty bare feet. 

Oh, Mabel, child. 

Don't stare so wild. 

What can it be? 

Oh yes, I see. 
She looks at the Sheriff with trembling lip. 
She sees that he carries a large rawhide whip. 



6 THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

Oh, cruel sight! 

Oh, dreadful plight! 

Oh, Mabel, you're in a sad fix; 

Too late now to register kicks. 

The platform is covered with oil-cloth complete; 
It tickles the soles of her pretty bare feet. 

Oh, what chills! 

Oh, what thrills! 

The Sheriff is concise and clear. 
And thus addresses Mabel dear: 

Hear! Hear! 
After this eloquent pow wow. 
Where is Demosthenes' fame now? 
This is speech he made. 
Oh, will it ever fade? 

" Before the rod of justice swings. 
Remove your necklace, chain and rings; 
Before we fetch this racket off 
You'll have to take your jacket off — 
And then — you know — the other things — 
That thing of crepe de chine that clings. 
The law is plain — no more — no less. 
Here is the warrant — please undress. 
Your time has come — we cannot wait; 
Prepare yourself — don't hesitate — 
Just take a tip — don't get the pip." 
Thus spoke the guardian of the whip. 

This is the speech he made; 

Oh, will it ever fade? 

Mabel removes her chain and rings, 
And then her jacket off she flings. 
Her shirtwaist next she casts aside. 
She shuts her eyes, but cannot hide 



THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

Her shame: she trembles Hke a reed, 
Unable further to proceed. 

Oh my! 

How shy! 

The Sheriff, rolling up his sleeve, 

Grasped firm the rawhide whip 

And said, '^ My duty makes me grieve. 

Be kind enough to strip 

Down to the skin. 

Come, come! begin. 
Lift up your head, don't hide your face; 
Take off that thing all trimmed with lace." 

Burning with shame. 

With eyes of flame, 
With trembling hands the gentle maid 
Her lingerie . unlaced. 
And pretty Kttle Mabel stood 
Stripped naked to the waist. 

Pink and white fairy! 

Fragile and airy. 

The mob around the scaffold press, 
Eager to see the girl undress. 
All eyes are centered on her form, 
So pretty, bare, and white. 
Upon her shoulder, soft and warm, 
Is one mosquito bite; 

One cute little dot; 

One pretty pink spot. 

The crowd is excited, bewildered, delighted, 

All dizzy, like fire and brimstone ignited; 

The women all nervous, the children affrighted. 

While most of the men have their cameras sighted 



8 THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

On pink and white Mabel, the neat pearly pearl. 
The dearie, the darling, the sweet girlie girl. 

Oh, heaven! from the lash defend her! 
Pity the soft white flesh so tender! 
This is the murmur heard the most. 
They lead her to the whipping-post; 
Face to the post she takes her stand, 
Pink and white vision from fairy land. 

The Sheriff with official air 
Arranges Mabel with great care. 
He chains her up exactly right. 
Her body bent, her skin drawn tight. 
Her skin so dainty, oh, so fair! 
DowTi to the waist completely bare. 

The Sheriff stands ready, 
His whip hand is steady. 

Now Mabel bowed her lovely head, 
Closed both her eyes — a prayer said, 

Her misery complete. 
Glancing aside — bewildered — dazed. 
She shudders! see! the whip is raised. 
She shrinks against the post quite crazed. 

Oh, how her heart does beat! 
There comes a blinding whizzing flash 
The whip — it gives a crack. 
And then a cruel stinging lash 
On Mabel's bare white back. 

Oh, hear her cry! 
Oh, my; oh my! 
Look! a pink stripe — 
The Delaware type. 



THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

Again the whip did rise and whirl, 
Whipping the sobbing little giri, 
Lashing and slashing with cruel crack, 
Whipping her beautiful naked back. 

Whipping and whipping, oh, how the whip flies! 
Whipping and whipping, what piteous cries! 
Lashing and slashing, with cruel crack. 
Whipping the skin off her naked back. 

Poor little Mabel, frantic with pain, 
Screaming and struggling, almost insane; 
Trembling, quivering, see the flesh shivering — 
All the croud jeering — witty and leering. 
So heartless — so vile! The Sheriff, meanwhile, 
All patience continues, with strenuous sinews. 
Lashing and slashing, with cruel crack. 
Whipping the poor Httle naked back. 
When lo! a trumpet blow! a sudden blast. 
Ho ho! the Sheriff drops his whip at last. 

The punishment ended. 

The law is defended. 
And poor Httle Mabel is writhing, suspended, 

Chained to the whipping post, 

Where pain is nipping most. 

Bleeding- — half dying — 

Bitterly crying. 

Oh, look at her back! her bare pretty back! 
Those cruel pink stripes on her back. Oh, alack! 

Ah, many a stripe. 

Of the Delaware type. 

Hear her moan, 

Hear her groan. 

In that dull monotone. 

The Sheriff meanwhile 
Has put on a style, 



10 THE DELAWARE BRIDE 

The cheering is loud as he bows to the crowd. 

See him smile! 

Oh, that smile, 
As he kisses his hand with a countenance bland. 

See him wink! 

What a blink! 
Don't he stink, don't he stink! 

The thirty-ninth lash has been given at last, 

The prisoner freed from the chain that held fast. 

The law is supreme, the whipping is over; 

Three cheers now for Wilmington, New Castle, Dover. 



WHEN? 

Question 

When shall we sinners do quite right, 
The politicians cease their fight, 
Making queer deals that rob the town? 
When will the breaded veal fry brown? 

Answer 

When the little chickens cackle; 
When the ducky daddies quackle; 
When the firecrackers crackle 
On the hilltop by the stump; 
When the owly owls are screeching; 
When aunt Susan's hair is bleaching; 
When the preacher, he is preaching, 
In the pulpit near the pump. 

Question 

When will the days be always fine, 
The river take another turn? 
When will the ocean have no brine? 
When will the pancakes cease to bum? 

Answer 

When the attic beams are creaking; 
When the micey mice are squeaking; 
When the coffee pot is leaking 
On the table near the door; 

11 



12 WHEN? 

When the angry sea is breaking; 
When my large back tooth is aching; 
When my mother dear is making 
A bread poultice for my jaw. 

Question 

When will the frying-pan be graceful? 
When comes the crack of doom? 
When will quinine be less distasteful? 
When will the toadstools bloom? 

Answer 

When Httle Ikie's teeth are munching 

Dodo wings for a mid-day snack; 

When all his soul is wrapt with crunching, 

Washing it down with apple jack. 

Licking his lips when his father says, " No, no! 

Ikie dear, no second helping of dodo." 

Question 

When will the earthquake stop its quake? 
When will the pudding never bake? 
When will the snow-man rake the flake? 
When will the frog pond be a lake? 

Answer 

When the bagpipes warble flutelike, 
To the song of Gypsy Toot Mike; 
When the women stop their cute hike. 

To show their strength and pluck; 
When the doctors are all quacked mad ; 
When the frying-pan is cracked bad; 
When we all forget the hacked fad, 

Our story of hardluck. 



WHEN? 13 



So let us all be care free, 
And over our pink tea 
Resolve to let no spite bee 
Come poison our delight. 
Stand pat, let's all be jolly, 
No Mollie Coddle Nolly; 
The top notch of our folly 
Is grumble day and night. 

Don't grumble, don't stumble. 

Hold, hold! don't scold. 

Don't fight! keep bright. Amen. 



OH THERE! 

Oh, there was a man with a brass Adam's apple, 

Who one morning entered the moss-covered chapel. 

The sexton, he stood near the pulpit so green; 

His face was unwashed and not fit to be seen; 

He stuttered, he muttered, he talked through his hat, 

He sang like a bat and he coughed up a rat. 

The fleas from this rat scattered all through the chapel. 

And ate up the man with the brass Adam's apple. 

Oh! there was a man with a celluloid throat 

Who once sailed along in a Httle green boat; 

His wife, she was troubled with ossified liver; 

Her thumb, it was pierced with a sharp oaken sliver. 

Now this sliver, this Hver, this boat, and this throat, 

Were at last swallowed up by a petrified goat. 

Oh, there was a man with a lop-sided ear-drum; 
It caused him to swagger, he was quite a queer bum. 
He swaggered so much it affected one eyelid, 
And everyone laughed at whatever this guy did. 
At last he decided, this life's but a bubble, 
Then jumped down a well, and so ended his trouble. 

Oh, there was a man with a mangy mustache, 
Whose nostrils were spotted with green nettle-rash; 
His left arm was swelled to a horrible size; 
He stretched up his right hand and scratched out his 

eyes; 
He tore out his heart, he gulped and he sighed; 
He burst all apart, and we fear he has died. 

14 



OH THERE! 15 

Oh, there was a man who harangued a large crowd; 
His gestures were awkward, his howlings were loud; 
He injured one tonsil, he twisted one wrist-joint; 
So into his mouth we inserted a sharp point. 
And being quite sick of his shouts at the rabble 
We cut out his tongue, and that finished his gabble. 

Oh, there was a man, who when living down South 

cursed. 
Then dared to sing hymns without washing his mouth 

first. 
This shocked all the neighbors so much that they grabbed 

him. 
And spanking him soundly, they afterwards stabbed 

him; 
And being hard up, and requiring cash, 
They fried him in butter and sold him for hash. 

Oh, there was a man who stole forty-eight dollars, 
Investing the same in six cats with green collars. 
And wanting some dishes, he bought six tin milk cans. 
This extra expense made him steal twenty silk fans. 
Now, fearing his conduct not quite on the level. 
He blew out his brains and then went to the Devil. 



KIPPENS 

I LIKE dogs— I love cats, 
Guinea pigs and white rats. 

Only dumb creatures: 

Eloquent teachers! 

Oh, such fidelity! 

How it comes back to me 

What once befell a flea, 

Pussy cat found on me. 

Treat quite unreckoned. 

Seen, caught and eaten 

All in one second; 

Battered and beaten. 

Pussy cat purred with glee. 
Oh, how Puss rubbed 'gainst me. 
Oh, what a triumph, quite, 
On the flea, out of sight! 

Kippens was the kitten's name. 
Very soft and very tame. 

Topaz eyes. 

Very wise. 

Oh, pity the Kitty. 
She disappeared soon after, 
Like little Johnnie Shafter. 

Dear Kippens, I'll always 
Remember no brawl pays. 

16 



KIPPENS 17 

Fighting all night, Kitty, 
Roaming the dark city- 
Is not right you see. 
It don't pay for me. 

Oh Guinea pigs, rabbits, pet goats, and white rats. 
What makes many people love dogs and hate cats? 

A pig is a pig, a rat is rat; 

A cat, you know, cannot help being a cat. 
Poor Pussy, you'd much rather be an Archbishop, 
And live in a palace with servants to dish up 
Canaries, green catnip, soft canopied bed, 
And everything else at the toss of your head. * 

Dear Kippens, sweet Kippens, oh, more is the pity, 
Instead of a Bishop, you're only a kitty. 

But still I've an inkling, 

Dear sweet little winkling, 

I'll meet you again; 
• But when, dear, oh, when! 

They say cats have nine lives or more. 
I'll meet you on some other shore. 

Oh yes, yes, I confess. 

Draw the curtain, I feel certain, 

Kitty cats live on forever. 

Kippens, dear, what can dissever, 

The love I bear for you, 

Dear feline, friend so true. 

Kind reader, don't think me a fool. 

Forgive this fooHsh sigh, 
Because I have made it a rule, 

Sure as I hope to die. 



18 KIPPENS 

Regardless of sequels, 
To treat cats like equals. 

And when I pass both sod and clod, 
In dog and kitty's land of nod; 
Knowing who loves her, purring with glee, 
Kippens will come and welcome me. 



LEGEND OF THE RHINE 

In ages long gone by, 
In a village very nigh, 

The banks of the beautiful Rhine, 
I have often heard said. 
Stood a statue of lead; 

It's mystery none could define. 

On one hand all rusty, 
Disfigured and musty, 

Some letters strange were found. 
Which people from the 
Far and near oft did see, 

But never could expound. 



There was one man, however, 
In the town who never 

Had yet tried to find them out. 
One summer night 
(Moon shining bright) 

He solved them without a doubt. 



He quickly discerned 
One finger was turned 
Toward the distant rocks; 
He searched around, 

19 



20 LEGEND OF THE RHINE 

And soon he found 
Parchment in a box. 

On the parchment he read 

Faded letters that said, 
Get a spade and take a hold; 

Dig 'neath the box, 

You'll soon see rocks 
When under them you'll find gold. 

Then home the man went 

To a friend that lent 
Him an old spade with rust covered. 

Which he took and began 

To dig hard like a man. 
Beneath the box he'd discovered. 

And decidedly soon, 

By the light of the moon, 

He beheld an iron door; 

Which he opened and found, 
Leading down under ground. 

Thirteen stone steps drenched in gore. 



He went down the stair 

To see what was there. 
And found a large hall lighted bright; 

Which as he rambled through, 

He suddenly came to 
A horrible, sickening sight. 



At a table there sat, 
Eaten half by a rat, 
A ghastly corpse all bloody red. 



LEGEND OF THE RHINE 21 

It was tattered and torn, 
And it looked all forlorn; 
A diamond gleamed bright on its head. 

The table was spread, 

With black mouldy bread; 
Of gold the dishes were made. 

Heaped up with fruits, 

Savory as old boots, 
AU very carefully laid. 

In one corner there stood, 

A coffin of rosewood, 
On which there were letters that read: 
'' Take any dish 

That you may wish. 
But touch not the gem on the head." 



Now instead of obeying. 

Refraining from laying 
His hands on the gem — lack a day! 

He took it— the thief! 

But found to his grief, 
'Tis better by far to obey. 

The lamps that shone bright 

Ceased to give their light — 
All was as dark as hell. 

The man in apright, 

And an awful plight, 
Began to scream and yell. 

And pretty quick 
He felt a kick, 



22 LEGEND OF THE RHINE 

And jumping up with a cry, 
Looking around — 
My stars, he found 

The Devil standing close by. 



He'd a swallow-tailed coat, 
And tied round his throat 

Was a handkerchief speckled with red; 
He'd a plum-colored vest, 
But what beat all the rest 

Were two very sharp horns on his head. 



The man, trembling and pale, 

Began to bewail, 
Beg, and entreat for his life, 

But Old Nick gave one peck 

At the nape of his neck, 
And now there began a great strife. 



The fight lasted long 

(The man being strong), 
But old Scratch came out victor at last. 

He got him down flat 

Like dog with a rat. 
And with one sharp claw held him fast. 



With the other he felt 

The sharp knife in his belt; 
When, lo! One bright whiz, one quick gash 

The Fiend with great art; 

Plunged it in the man's heart, 
Then vanished away in a flash. 



LEGEND OF THE RHINE 23 

So now ends my tale, 

But pray don't bewail 
The man's most deplorable end, 

But lest, sir, that you 

Be served that way too, 
Your duty — be sure to attend. 



WHERE THE FIRECRACKERS CRACK 

(TO THE TUNE OF " OLD SOLOMON LEVI ") 

Of all the places in this world, there's none can beat, 

you bet, 
The terrace where the water lilies all keep dry, not 

wet. 
Upon the fourth of last July I dined beyond my means, 
And then the firecrackers cracked, and cracked my 

dish of beans. 

Chorus 
He dinkety di do! 
Hinkety kinkety wink! 
He dinkety di do! 
Blinkety! Blinkety! Blink! 
When the beans are in the oven and when everything 

doth smack 
Of that hifalutin terrace where the firecrackers crack. 

Little Johnny Jumper jumped one morning in the spring, 
Little Johnny Jumper stole his sister's diamond ring, 
Little Johnny Jumper jumped close to a deep, deep well; 
Little Johnny Jumper jumped and found himself in 
Schenectady. 

Chorus. — He dinkety, etc., etc. 

One day I kicked my mother and she said, " Please, 
Alfred, don't." 

24 



WHERE THE FIRECRACKERS CRACK 25 

My answer was, '^ Dear Mother, after this I think I 

won't. 
The neighbors, should they see me, might think my 

conduct queer; 
And so I promise never more to kick you, Mother 

dear." 

Chorus. — He dinkety, etc., etc. 

Little Tommy's upper teeth one morning got on edge, 
Because he tried to bite the iron runner of a sledge. 
His father said, '* My bonnie lad, I'll have to make 

you thrill, 
So contemplate the carpet while we practice bamboo 

drill." 

Chorus. — He dinkety di do, etc., etc. 

There lives a man in London town whose ears are 

dapple gray 
In the early part of autumn, in the latter part of May; 
And when the blazing sun comes out and everything 

doth freeze. 
Instead of being dapple grap his ears are full of fleas. 

Chorus. — He dinkety di do, etc., etc. 

I know a charming fellow, his name is Abel Strong; 

He is not very short, nor really could he be termed long. 

His elbows have the jaundice, his brain is quite be- 
fogged. 

His hair is full of mushrooms, and his neck is water- 
logged. 

Chorus. — He dinkety di do, etc., etc. 



26 WHERE THE FIRECRACKERS CRACK 

Myself and my friend, Jimmy Stick-in-the-mud, we 
don't like application; 

We polish the sidewalks all day long in seeking recre- 
ation. 

Two sons of the soil, we Hve without toil, 

We feed like royal Turks; 

We have good luck 

In getting our chuck. 

And to hell with the man that works. 

Chorus. — He dinkety di do, etc., etc. 



DEAR AUNT ANN 

Aunt Ann has arrived, I see. 
She has brought a strap, Oh, gee! 
Little James looks very sad — 
Goodness me, it is too bad. 
Something strange will soon occur, 
What it is you must infer; 
Something weird will happen soon — 
What it is ask of the moon. 
Moon, luny, puny, spoony moon! 

Little Johnny lost his cap. 

Aunt Ann has mislaid the strap. 

Oh, dear me, what shall we do? 

How create the boo-hoo-hoo? 

I have hit upon a wrinkle. 

You shall learn it in a twinkle. 

With these tongs his nose I'll tweak, 

That will make him loudly squeak. 

Squeak, squeaky, squeaky, squeaky, squeak. 

Little Peter stole some hash, 
Therefore he deserves the lash. 
Dear Aunt Ann is taken ill. 
Some one go and buy a pill. 
We must truly now confess 
We are all left in a mess. 
How shall we chastise this lad? 
We must go consult dear Dad; 
Dad, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Dad! 

27 



28 DEAR AUNT ANN 

Pills to health Aunt Ann did bring, 
Now her arm the strap will swing, 
Bow your heads and raise your hats, 
Ring the bell and call the brats, 
We will have a picnic, dears. 
To atone for misspent years; 
We'll a celebration make. 
That will truly take the cake. 
Cake, cakey, snakey, fakey cake. 



TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES 

Canto i 

A CUTE little dope fiend sat cleaning his ear, 
One bright summer morning in June. 
He dug with the stump of a pencil — how queer! 
His own patent cleanser — poor loon! 

From his name, Pefularties, you'd think him a Greek; 
But no! Not at all! He is only a sneak 
From prosy York State, a regular freak 

Who digs with a pencil; 

Alas! such a dense Bill. 

At school he won Greek prize by cheating, 
And then he gave a child a beating 
Because the child was very wise, 
SmelHng the trick that stole the prize. 

So instead of plain Billy boy, 
All his crowd in a silly joy 
Dubbed him Greek Pefularties — 
'Twill his dear Ma and Pa tease. 

Poor Pa! 

Poor Ma! 
Who always condone their pet, 
Dear Billy goat boy, you bet! 

The next event. 
Him great fame lent. 

29 



30 TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES . 

He stole some rubber coats, 

Then sold them; felt his oats, 

Just like a well-fed nag. 

Hugging his money bag 

He ran away to fair Colorado. 

Deserting both his Ma and Dad, Oh! 

For many years he roamed the wild West, 
Then thought he might prefer the South best. 

Dazzled by vain glory, 
Now comes the pain story. 

Canto 2 

One picture of the South I'll now present: 
Down in a pit is Pefularties pent; 
Deep in the pit did Pefularites fall. 
He tries, he tries, but can't get out at all. 
Was ever a poor sinner in such stress? 
He can't get out — he's in an awful mess. 

An alligator, living in the pit, 
Has grabbed him by one leg, he thinks he's it. 
He loves to hear poor Pefularties squeal. 
He loves to see him wriggle like an eel. 
The alligator smiles with ardent zeal. 
Fixing his face all ready for the meal. 

Roused by the struggle, spiders, far and near, 
Nice large fat spiders, ready for good cheer; 
Crawl down the rocks, approach from every cleft, 
Stinging poor Pefularties right and left. 

Far up the cliff upon a rocky ledge, 

A monkey swings a heavy club-like sledge, 



TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES 31 

Daring poor Pefularties to climb up. 
Poor Pefularties! Billy goat — poor pup! 

How he got out of this sad scrape, I don't know. 

Escape he did, I'm sure of that, yes, just so. 

In old York State he suddenly appeared 

In broad slouch hat, blue tie, and small red beard; 

High boots, both spurred, with eyes of sickly green. 

The lop-eared stranger comes upon the scene. 

His neighbors dubbed him this, a pack of rude Dutch, 
Because his slouch hat made his ears protrude much. 
And as the lop-eared stranger he is famous 
Throughout the land; West, North, South, East; 
Oremus. 

He met the sweetest girl in town. 

This lop-eared beast, this pimpled clown. 

And by his wit. 

He made a hit. 
The girl's only brother, suspecting some danger, 
Advised her to shake off this gay lop-eared stranger. 

She answered him thus: 

" Pray don't make a fuss; 

My Willy I'll stick to; 

I'll get him to Kck you. 

He'll smash you to grease, 

So leave us in peace." 



Canto 3 

The wedding day came without delay; 
The Devil, though lame, had all his way, 

Full sway, full sway; 

All day, all day! 



32 TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES 

The bride was dressed in spotless white. 
She started out in glad delight; 
She reached the church; there stood the groom, 
Five minutes more, she met her doom. 

For weal or woe. 

No weal! No, no! 

Out in the graveyard flowers bloom 
Close to the shade of her father's tomb. 
The wind swept by with a dismal cry; 
The raven croaked in a tree close by; 
The bell now tolled with a doleful knell, 
Just like the howl of a soul in hell. 

Inside the church the pledge is given; 

The fatal nail, forever driven. 

The groom bent close to the priest and said, 

"I'll pay your fee next week instead; 

I've got on my other pants to-day " 

And then he led the bride away. 

A cold damp thrill seemed to freeze the will 

Of all the wedding guests, how still! 

All mockery! it bodes of ill. 

No Godspeed here: Oh no! all chill. 

Hark! Hark! hear the bell peal; toll after toll. 
Like the dismal howl of a long-lost soul. 
Choirs of vampire bats raise a cry, 
Carrion crows sing a sweet lullaby. 



Canto 4 

A month has passed, oh, frightful change! 
The bright red beard has got the mange. 
New pimples sprout both here and there; 



TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES 33 

The lop-eared stranger has less hair. 
Is he a hero? What d'yer think? 
His ranch out west is on the blink. 
The truth, alas! has now come out, 
He stands unmasked, this pimpled lout. 
He never owned a ranch, forsooth, 
Come close; I'll tell you all the truth. 

List, list! 

Hist, hist! 
In spite of his slouch hat, his pistol, his dirk, 
A second-class house-painter quite out of work 

There stands revealed, 

Quite, quite unsealed. 
The red-whiskered hero now fallen to zero. 

Ah, never a cowboy at all, 
His pride had a terrible fall; 
Only a painter — the rat. 
Not a first-class one at that. 

There was some talk of Doctor Tar, . . 

Also his partner, Feather; 

But all grew calm, without a jar, 

And now came pleasant weather. 

The pleasant weather lasted short. 
The helpless victim found she'd bought 
A leach. A sneak. In fact — she's caught. 
Trapped by a grasping, pimpled wart. 

This pimpled wart wasted 
His wife's private income. 
And soon they all tasted 
The fruits of a gin bum. 

This whisky bum. 

This frisky bum. 



34 TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES . 

Putrid offenses. 

My! such pretenses! 
Out all the night, shattered and nervous, 
This his excuse, early Church service. 
Oh, vile double life. Oh, lop-sided pill! 
His poor abused wife, she sticks to him still. 

Year followed year — the same old story, 
More highly colored, now red and gory. 
This second-class painter, this meek Simon Peter 
Has now become changed to a first-class wife beater. 
When all of a sudden, he opium adds 
To the list of his charms, and a few other fads. 
Fads grimy! Eyes shmy. 

Canto 5 

The curtain rises on the final act, 
The young mechanic with his brain all cracked. 
Last scene of all, this contemptible smug louse, 
Finds himself nearing the doors of the bughouse. 

Ring out, ye bell, ring out and tell 
What doom on Pefularties fell. 

The lop-eared stranger sits alone 
Munching away at a marrow bone. 
Holding it firm in his strong right hand, 
Chewing away to beat the brass band. 

This shrimpled shrimp, 

This pimpled pimp, 
His left hand grasps his friend the pencil. 
Poor lop-eared Pefularties, dense Bill! 
He digs and he digs and he digs at one ear — 
There certainly must be some wheels out of gear. 
He listens, he sees — strange sights, such queer fleas. 



TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES 35 

He fights them, 

He bites them, 
He swallows them whole. 

He clips them, 

He nips them, 
Poor suffering soul. 

One little Devil, tattered and twisted, 
Quickly stepped forward; gently insisted 
Poor Pefularties should drink of his chalice. 
Down with one gulp pours this nectar of malice. 

The lop-eared stranger sees the pit once more. 
Most awful phantoms all around him claw. 

Old times come back; 

He's on the rack. 

Motheaten apes in a hollow square 
Chatter and grin with ecstatic stare. 
Six Gila monsters, withered and bent, 
Sputter and snort to their heart's content. 
Vinegerones with squeaks of glee 
Climb down the cliff and join the spree. 

See the spiders dance and flirt, 

See the alligator squirt 

Smoke and brimstone from his teeth! 

See the fiery, white-hot wreath. 

Closing tight about his head 

On the rack, all bleeding red — 

Mockery of a dying bed! 

One gasp more — the man is dead. 

That stiffened form — that sightless stare! 

The soul has fled — but where? Oh, where? 

Again the raven gave a croak, 

"I'll hide you now beneath my cloak." 



36 TRIBULATIONS OF PEFULARTIES 

But stop! Don't judge! We cannot tell. 
Hope for the best that all is well. 

Where is his soul? We cannot tell. 
We hope— but oh! That dreadful bell! 

Again the raven croaked and said, 
" This is a merry dying bed. 
Croak, croak! Oh hell! 
Croak, croak! Farewell." 



THE EXECUTIONER 

I AM an executioner bold: I work near the deep, deep 
river, 

By the Traitor's Gate, 

AVhere many a fate 
Is sealed when my axe doth quiver. 

I dearly love my work, I dearly love my axe. 

When I chop off a head, 

That's the way I make bread, 
With classic hacks and cracks. 



Some say I'm a lout and a clown; 

I often am called up to town. 

My tastes are domestic, 

I'm put in a mess quick 
When told to do victims up brown. 
I say brown — I mean red — a bright clear, healthy red. 
I know when I die, with what food I'll be fed. 

When I pass in my checks 

An array of red necks. 
All bleeding, will dance a quadrille round my bed. 

With a high diddle di. 

Diddle — Oh my, oh my! 

I live near the ocean. 
Oh, what a commotion. 
When somebody has to be lopped off. 

37 



38 THE EXECUTIONER 

When the bright beacon light, 
Sizzles out with dehght, 
" Come to town, there's a head to be chopped off J 



My friends line the road, 

As I leave my abode, 
Jump on the saddle and gallop away. 

I hasten to go 

Where raising the dough, 
By my art, is a very rare art I should say. 

The art of neat chops, 

Then stepping aside 

Before the blood pops. 

So not to collide, 

With the flow from Red Lane 

And the nasty red stain. 

With a high diddle di. 

Diddle — Oh my, oh my! 



Oh, this is the song — ah yes — this is the ditty 
I sang long ago when I worked in the city. 
A work then much needed, 
When necks were oft bleeded. 
A work very useful, though minus of pity. 



This happened long ago, 
Oh misery — oh woe! 
Its all in the past tense. 
I'm now on the last fence. 



Since my axe flashed on high 
Many years have passed by. 
It seems like a dream since I stood by the block. 



THE EXECUTIONER 39 

Because I retired 
Before I was fired, 
And settled down here on my lone ocean rock. 

A true county squire, 

No champion liar, 
No wonder I swell when I strut off. 
I dream of the heads that I've cut off. 
Dozens of Dukes — Earls and Queens, 
Old men and young girls in their teens. 

From Cardinal Hay 

To Lady Jane Grey. 
Two"" wives of King Hal, » 

Each one a game gal. 
My, oh my! I've a good royal list. 

I shortened them all. 

Each head took a fall; 
With one whiz, and one twist of my wrist. 

I cannot help but recollect, 

I cannot stop my retrospect. 

While on long winter nights, 

Far away from the frost rills. 

Burning log fire lights. 

Bring good cheer to my nostrils; 

Then terrible shocks to my rim rams. 

Like poisonous cats with the jim jams. 

So I sing my last song: 

It is sweet — nixie long — 

It is never a chestnut to me. 

With a high diddle di, 

Diddle — oh my, oh my! 

Here it is, let it siz, he, he, he! 

I^am an executioner bold, I work near the deep, deep 
river, 



40 THE EXECUTIONER 

By the Traitor's Gate, 
Where many a fate 
Is sealed when my axe doth quiver. 

Oh, the axe, oh, the axe! 
Oh, the work it has done, 
And the fame it has won! 
Oh, the hacks, the deep hacks! 

Hurrah for the axe! 

Its crashes and cracks. 

I'll never forget. 

My loUypop pet. 
When it whizzed, when it flashed, 
When it hacked, when it slew. 
When it caused a great flowing. 
Of rose-colored hue. 

With a high diddle di. 

Diddle — oh my, oh my! 

My heart clings round my rusty love. 

My well-notched passive turtle dove. 

Oh, no, dear axe, nothing can now dissever. 

My soul from thee, my close companion ever. 
Amen, Amen! 



GROANINGS FROM THE SEPULCHRE 

**I FEAR there's no more hope/' the doctor said. 
My friends assembled round my dying bed 
With tearful faces, pale as they could be, 
Expecting now my last death gasp to see. 

I struggled only once and then lay still. 

To move or speak I only had the will. 

The doctor, leaning softly o'er the bed, 

Seemg I'd ceased to breathe pronounced me dead. 

My friends then all grew very sickly pale, 
My sisters all began to loudly wail. 
My mother screamed and fainted dead away. 
The fat old parson for my soul did pray. 

Not the shortest word ;had my lips the power to 

utter. 
Not the slightest sound nor syllable then could 1 

mutter. 
I could not show my soul had not yet fled; 
Just Hke a corpse I lay upon the bed. 

The very next day, about a quarter to five, 
A beautiful casket did at the house arrive. 
Of the finest polished rosewood 'twas all made, 
And with gold and silver handsomely inlaid. 

41 



d2 GROANINGS FROM THE SEPULCHRE 

Within the casket then was I encased, 
And on the parlor table quickly placed. 
A wreath of roses lay upon my chest, 
With this inscription, "Here he Hes at rest." 



And all the room was filled with lovely flowers 
Which had been gathered from the neighboring 

bowers. 
The window curtains all were tightly closed, 
And dark the room in which I then reposed. 

And thus I lay for many a dreary hour 

With mind still clear, but yet without the power 

To move or speak, or any way to give 

My friends a sign to show I still did live. 

They all in whispered murmurings did tell, 
Gazing on him whom once they'd loved so well, 
Of all the traits my character had had, 
And all were melancholy, pale, and sad. 

The door swung back, the clergyman came in, 
He'd snow white hair, red nose, and double chin. 
He held a gold-edged prayer book in one hand, 
And gazed around with countenance quite bland. 

He placed himself close to the casket head, 
** Peace be to thee," he then devoutly said. 
And opening the gilded book he read 
With solemn voice the service of the dead. 

Loud groans and moans and sobs did rend the air 
Upon the closing of the funeral prayer. 



GROANINGS FROM THE SEPULCHRE 43 

The undertaker shut the casket's lid, 
And then in utter darkness I was hid. 



The casket then was placed within the hearse, 
My dreary prospects growing yet still worse. 
I felt the motion as the wheels turned round; 
The hearse was moving slowly o'er the grotmd. 

How far we rode I really cannot say. 
The hearse did jar me badly all the way 
As over stumps and stones we roughly rode, 
Drawing me nearer to my last abode. 



At length we finished up our dismal drive 
And at the family vault we did arrive. 
The casket then was placed upon its shelf, 
And now my feelings you may guess yourself. 



Long hours thus I lay within the tomb 
With mind still raging on my awful doom, 
And wishing that it quickly might be o'er, 
That I might be at rest forevermore. 



While thinking on my miserable fate, 

I sunk into a semi-conscious state. 

My shattered thoughts then took another turn 

And soon my heart with merriment did burn. 



Upon a handsome chair I seemed to sit 
Within a spacious hall all brightly ht. 
Before a table strewn with cake and wine,. 
And silver plate of beautiful design. 



44 GROANINGS FROM THE SEPULCHRE 

The great room seemed all filled with merry guests, 
All drmking ale and beer and making jests. 
None gazed upon me as they walked the hall — 
I seemed to be a stranger midst them all. 

At last one looked upon me with a leer, 
Then roared aloud, ''What means this fellow here, 
Sitting up stiff like a lazy worthless lout. 
Come, along, boys, and let us oust him out!" 

And then the noisy drunken rabbling crowd; 
With awful maledictions, fierce and loud, 
Rushed straight upon me with a deaf'ning scream 
That echoed through the hall from beam to beam. 
And swinging heavy clubs and canes and sticks. 
And jeering at my useless yells and kicks, 
Dragged me across the spacious hall so bright, 
Opened a window, where the moon gave light, 
Gazing but once at the beautiful starry night. 
Out of the window, they flung me with all their 
might. 

On the way down my head did roughly bump 
Against the side of the house with many a thump, 
Sharp throbs of pain shot quickly through my head, 
And ere I reached the ground all sense had fled. 

When sense returned I heard a voice, that said, 
*' For my share boys, I mean to have the head.'' 
I wondered whether I did dream again, 
When on my neck I felt a cutting pain. 

And opening my eyes, behold, I saw, 

A ghastly sight, that struck me dumb with awe. 



3 



GROANINGS FROM THE SEPULCHRE 45 

A sight that made my frame with terror shake; 

A sight that made my very marrow quake; 

A sight that drove the cold sweat from my brow, 

On thought of which, I even tremble now 

As on this sheet I pen this fearful tale, 

One that should make the hardest heart grow pale. 

I lay upon a table all surrounded 

By fiendish, beastly men with looks astounded. 

Each member of this miserable band 

Clutched tight a knife within his brawny hand. 

Looking upon me a moment in speechless fright. 
Never before in their Hves had they seen such a 

sight. 
Out of the room with frantic screams they tore 
As quickly as they could, and slammed the door. 

It seems, when I'd laid in the vault about a day 
Some medical students passing along that way, 
Knowing a body had lately been cast within, 
Thought if they carried it off, 'twould be no sin. 

So into the vault they very stealthily broke. 
And thinking they were all playing a capital joke, 
Carried my senseless, deathlike body away 
To a large dissecting room without delay. 

And many happy years since then have fled, 
Since that sad time, and still, I'm not yet dead. 
Upon my neck there is an ugly scar. 
Which does my looks considerably mar. 
Reminding me how near death's door I lay 
In years gone by — that memorable day. 



